


Eight Nights

by thesnadger



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: But The True Meaning of Hannukah Is Driving Off Your Enemies With Violence, Canonical Jewish Pines, Family Fluff, Gen, Heartwarming Felonies, Jewish Holidays, Remember Kids The True Meaning Of Christmas May Be Peace And Love Or Something, The True Miracle of Hannukah is No One's Sweater Catches Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8847727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnadger/pseuds/thesnadger
Summary: It's the Pines Family's first Hanukkah together. Everyone is gathered in the Mystery Shack. Stan and Ford are celebrating for the first time since they were children, and things seem to be going great. But Mabel's extravagant gift-giving soon sets off a competitive streak in Grunkle Stan, one that threatens to engulf the whole family!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlamingFoxNinja](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=FlamingFoxNinja).



> Done for a prompt by FlamingFoxNinja, for the Fluffstravaganza to benefit the ACLU!

“...S _hehecheyanu, v'kiy'manu, v'higianu laz'man hazeh._ ”

Mabel sang the last words of the blessing and held the bottom of the shamash over the first night's candle to soften it. She then carefully pulled the sleeve of her sweater up before sticking the shamash back in place. She'd mentioned not wanting her recently-knitted sweater—a blue-and-white pattern decorated with candles and a dancing dreidel—to go up in flames, adding that she'd learned that lesson three Hanukkahs ago.

“Very nice, sweetie.” Stan smiled at her from his place on the couch.

“And now for the best part—presents!” Mabel grinned. “Mine are all upstairs, be right back!”

She hurried out the den and bolted for the stairs, nearly running into Soos on the way. Stan had noticed him hanging there while Mabel said the blessing, peeking his head in from the hall.

“Oop! Hi Soos!” Mabel chirped as she passed by, “...Aren't you going to join us?”

“Is it okay if I do?” he asked. “I don't wanna, y'know, intrude or anything.”

“Just get in here,” Stan called out in a gruff, annoyed voice. “We've already got a former Bunyanite and a guy who accidentally started his own religion sitting here. We can make room for a Catholic.”

Soos smiled and walked into the den, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the sofa where Stan was parked next to his brother.

“Besides...” Stan muttered, looking in the other direction as he produced a small package that said 'Soos' on the side and passing it nonchalantly down. “...It's not the same without the whole family.”

Soos's eyes widened and he held out his hands, accepting the tiny package into them as if it were a precious, fragile treasure instead of the simple bag of New Jersey sea glass that Stan had wrapped inside it.

“I'm back!” Mabel's voice came from the doorway.

Stan almost did a double take when he saw the pile of gifts that Mabel was carrying. It nearly filled the doorway, bags and boxes stacked on top of one another, all wrapped in shiny blue paper.

With the mass of presents she'd brought in, it was only fitting that Mabel be the one to organize the gift-giving. She went around the room, passing packages from one person to another and bouncing on her heels with excitement when hers were opened. On top of the first night's presents, she had knit seasonal sweaters for everyone.

The exchange was over in about half an hour. The den of the Shack was covered in discarded wrapping paper. Dipper sat, contentedly flipping through a book on UFOs. Waddles was snuffling through a sack of cut up corn cobs Mabel had wrapped for him. (“Just because he isn't kosher doesn't mean he can't join the fun!” Mabel had insisted.)

Mabel herself was admiring the little necklace Stan and Ford had given her—something they'd picked up in a tiny shop near Greenland, owned by an elderly woman and her twenty cats. Stan watched, picking at a piece of lint on the edge of his new sweater—which he'd put on immediately because he had to see if it fit, and not for any other reason.

When they'd first found that necklace, he'd been excited. It seemed just like the kind of thing Mabel would love--all glittery and colorful. But after the huge event that was Mabel's gift-giving, it was starting to look kind of...small. And cheap. Really cheap...it was just a bunch of cut glass set in brass, after all. He could've stolen something with real jewels for her.

“...Yeesh...” Stan muttered. “When I was a kid you just got a pencil set or a pair of socks or something.....”

“Remember that year Mom gave us a bag of bottle caps and told us they were 'rare tin doubloons'?” Ford smiled.

“Mabel doesn't tend to do anything small.” Dipper smirked. “Especially not gift-giving. You'll get used to it.”

Stan didn't comment any further than that. Soos suggested making hot chocolate and the kids got excited about watching some movie about a cop who was a rabbit or something. Not long after that Stan, along with everyone else, was tucked comfortably in a nest of blankets, crowded around the television.

If anyone noticed that he occasionally glanced at the menorah, watching the candles burn down with a scheming glint in his eye, no one mentioned it.

* * *

“So I was following this kid from school.” Dipper said, as he and Ford lay on the floor of the Mystery Shack looking over the journal that Dipper had been keeping. “At first I thought he might be a werewolf but it turns out he's just like, European or something. Anyway we're friends now, so it wasn't a total loss.”

“You turned a potential enemy into a friend, that's wonderful Dipper! And your drawings keep getting better...” Ford lifted the edge of the page, looking at the illustration of a hairy, freckled boy. “Though here's a tip—I've found that for whatever reason werewolves are never redheads. There's something about the presence of pheomelanin that neutralizes the lycanthropic curse....”

“Hey!” Stan's booming voice came from the doorway. “It's almost sundown! C'mon, let's get everyone together, chop chop!”

Ford looked at his brother and raised an eyebrow. Well. He was obviously up to something.

“You're awfully eager to celebrate all of a sudden.” Ford observed.

“And why shouldn't I be, huh?” Stan clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “It's the first Hanukkah either of us've had since we were kids. C'mon Ford, get into the spirit!”

There was a kind of sense in that...Ford remembered the last Hanukkah he had observed. “Observed” is the only appropriate word for it, since “celebrated” certainly didn't apply. It was the year after Stan had been thrown out, and suffice to say the mood was less than cheerful. The year after that, Ford spent his winter break at Backupsmore in the mostly-empty dorm. He'd been so focused in on his studies that he honestly hadn't realized it was the third night of Hanukkah until he passed a display on the bulletin board outside the cafeteria that the Jewish Student Union had tacked up.

He'd thought briefly about getting some candles or something, but the family menorah was back at a home that he would take any excuse to avoid. He could have gone out and bought one, but...he was already drifting away from the religion he'd been raised on. And without a family to celebrate with...what was the point?

Stan's last Hanukkah had most likely been the year before his. He couldn't imagine his brother being eager to observe it alone, in the meager circumstances he'd found himself in after everything went wrong. Was it so strange that he'd be excited about it now? Now that he finally had a family to celebrate with again...now that both of them did? Ford shouldn't be so suspicious of him.

“I see your point.” Ford said.

“Where's Mabel? Let's get this party started!” Stan got the candles out while Dipper went to find his sister.

The second night's round of gift-giving began in a manner similar to the first. Mabel produced another armful of thoughtful, carefully wrapped presents. Stan and Ford passed out a few trinkets that they'd collected in their travels. Dipper handed out some smaller gifts, including an &ndra CD for Mabel that he said was given “under the condition that you only have impromptu concerts when I'm not home.” Mabel had laughed and shouted 'deal!' before tackling her brother in a hug.

“All right.” Stan said when it seemed that all the gifts had been given out. “My turn.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. His turn? But they'd already handed out everything they'd planned to give....

Stan reached behind the sofa and pulled out a stack of messily-wrapped presents that Ford was certain he'd never seen before. With great fanfare, he passed one out to everyone there. Ford raised an eyebrow and tore at the wrapping paper (which said “Happy 50th Birthday!” on it...Stan had probably dragged it out from somewhere deep in the Shack.)

Inside, he found a gently folded garment—a new coat. And a nice one by the looks of it...Ford was never an expert in fashion, nor was he aware which brands were supposed to be designer. But if the quality of the garment wasn't enough of a sign that it was upscale, the plastic security tag that Stan had forgot to remove from the bottom sealed it. It was from the most expensive clothing store in Gravity Falls.

Ford paused to remind himself that he always had reason to be suspicious of his brother, regardless of what other factors might be at play.

That aside, he was impressed with the coat. It was sturdy and warm, with soft plaid lining. And, a detail that Ford couldn't help but be a little touched by—at least five hidden interior pockets. Stan might not have paid money for this, but he clearly took the time to pick it out with Ford in mind.

“Wow, Grunkle Stan...” Dipper said, slipping on the cozy new hat and gloves he'd gotten. “These are really nice....”

“These boots are so soft.” Soos said, holding out his foot and wiggling it. “It's like stepping into a baby's cheek.”

“Mine's even monogrammed!” Mabel said, pulling on the jacket and scarf she'd just received. Was that...cashmere? “What's 'P.N.' stand for?”

“Uh....'perfect niece,' obviously!” Stan said, shifting slightly and twiddling his thumbs.

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel crossed the room to him and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Stan smiled warmly and ruffled her hair. Obvious thievery aside, it was a sweet image.

“All right, now who wants to play dreidel?” Stan asked, beaming. “I'll clean all of you out!”

* * *

It wasn't until the next day, when Ford saw Stan towing a pair of snowmobiles up the road to the Shack, that he began to feel concerned.

“Perfect timing, bro!” Stan said when he caught sight of Ford. “I need someone to help me hide these things till I give 'em to the kids tonight!”

“Hide them from Dipper and Mabel, or from the police?” Ford asked.

“For legal reasons I'm not answering that.” Stan said, unhitching the snowmobiles from his car and pushing one behind some nearby bushes.

“I'm certainly not against getting the kids nice things,” Ford said, getting behind Stan and helping him push. “But...all this, just because Mabel made everyone sweaters?”

“Of course!” Stan replied. “She threw down the gift-giving gauntlet, and it's our job to pick it up and retaliate! Can't let her have all the glory!”

“So this is about your reputation.” Ford said, skeptically.

“Of course.”

“...Which has always been one of unparalleled generosity.”

“Hey, one time when a kid got attacked by mutant deer at the Mystery Shack I gave him a ten percent discount on keychains.” Stan said, piling leaves and branches over the hidden vehicles. “I'm practically Mother Theresa over here.”

“And there's no other motivation behind it.”

“What are you getting at, Poindexter?” Stan frowned, glancing sidelong at him.

Ford smirked. It was certainly true that his brother was miserly by nature. He'd spent half an hour arguing with the vendor in Helsinki when they were buying matching puzzle boxes for the kids' last birthday. The way he talked the puzzles down while haggling, you'd think he believed them to be worthless. But when they were out walking later and he'd realized they'd fallen out of the shopping bag, he'd panicked and trekked back over the road where he thought he'd dropped them over and over until the gifts were recovered, insisting that it only looked like he was crying because of the rain on his face.

He'd complain loudly and repeatedly about the shipping costs whenever they sent a package to Piedmont, after the Department of Homeland Security made Fiddleford's drones an Emergency Use Only method of communication. But those complaints had long ago started to seem like a show. A formality, when Ford knew as well as Stan did that he'd shell out any amount it took to get something to the kids. Reputation indeed.

“...I want in. That's what I'm getting at.” Ford replied.

“Ha!” Stan slapped him on the back. “That's what I'm talking about! We'll show those little punks how it's done! We'll _bury_ them in thoughtful gifts!” he shook his fist in the air.

“What do you say we find something for tomorrow night together? There are some holographic star charts in Crash Site Omega that I think Dipper would like, and I'm sure if we look we can find something for Mabel too. There's still a lot of alien weaponry down there, after all. You're absolutely sure you're over your fear of heights?”

“You tell me—you were there when we had to grab onto that helicopter to escape the horde of fish-dragons. Didn't see me crumble then, did ya?” Stan grinned elbowing him. “Let's go get some questionable space junk!”

* * *

“...Thanks for the anti-gravity ray, Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan!” Mabel said, gleefully levitating a lamp, a box of crayons, and Soos.

“Yeah, thanks! These are so cool.” Dipper said, flipping through screen after screen of alien writing and far-off constellations with pure fascination.

Ford put a hand on Dipper's shoulder. “Just remember, don't look directly at the images for more than forty minutes at a time.”

“C'mon, Ford. We got some plans to make for tomorrow.” Stan grinned, gesturing for Ford to follow him out.

Dipper watched the two of them go, then closed the metallic case in his hands, turning off the holographic screens. He frowned.

“What's the problem, bro bro?” Mabel asked, briefly turning her attention away from the wonders of anti-gravity.

“Don't you see what's going on?” Dipper asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Mabel pointed to the beam of purple-pink energy that Soos and a number of household objects were still floating in. “Upside-down dance party, obviously.”

“Check this out, guys.” Soos lifted his shirt, wiggling his belly and letting it undulate in zero-g. “It's mesmerizing...like a lava lamp!”

“No, I mean with Grunkle Stan!” Dipper said. “Isn't it weird to you that he, I dunno, suddenly upped his present game after the first night?”

“Huh?” Mabel tilted her head at Dipper. “Sorry, I wasn't listening. You're right Soos, it _is_ mesmerizing!”

“Aren't you bothered by the fact that he's _obviously_ trying to outdo you? And now he's roped Grunkle Ford into it. I knew he would do something like this...he's so competitive!” Dipper put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. “And that's why you and I have to beat him.”

“No offense Dipper, but I sheered an entire warren of flying pink angora rabbits for those sweaters. If anyone needs to step up their present game here, it's you.”

“I know, I know.” Dipper said, gesturing between the two of them. “But that's why we need to do this as a team! Separately, we both have limits, but together we can be a gift-giving juggernaut!”

“...Dude...can I get in on this?” Soos said, floating above them. “I've always wanted to be part of some kind of juggernaut. Plus, I know all about Stan's favorite movies and stuff from when he was younger.”

“I like your moxie, Soos!” Mabel said. “Upside-down high five!”

“All right, here's my plan for tomorrow night.” Dipper leaned in, then paused. “...Uh...Mabel? Do you know how to turn that thing off?”

Mabel held up the gravity gun and fiddled with buttons on the side, to no apparent effect. She shrugged.

“Huh. I guess this is my life now.” Soos said. “I wonder if I can work it into the tour....”

“Okay. Pause to deal with this,” Dipper said. “Then plans.”

* * *

It escalated from there.

On the fifth night, Dipper, Soos and Mabel found an ancient idol in the woods that if placed on the front of the Stan-o-War would guide it safely through storms. Stan and Ford retaliated with enchanted amulets that would protect them against illness, vampires, and accidentally saying 'you too' when told by waiters to enjoy their meal.

The morning of the sixth night, Soos told Dipper and Mabel a story Stan had shared with him a long time ago, about seeing _The Creature That Came From The Off-White Lagoon_ when he was a kid, knowing there was a good chance that Ford had been with him. After a little research in the library, Dipper learned that the version of the film they'd seen had coincidentally been filmed near Gravity Falls, and the monster effects weren't special effects at all. By the time the candles were lit, they'd managed to coax the film's star out of his hibernation in the frozen mud and into the Shack.

This might have worked out better if Stan and Ford hadn't spent that morning capturing and doing their best to train one of the giant, three-headed eagles that nested in the caves overlooking Gravity Falls. The minute it spotted the froglike form of its natural prey, the Threeagle snapped its tether and chased the lagoon creature into the woods. The whole family took it as an lesson on why you probably shouldn't give pets as unexpected gifts.

By night seven, the kids had pulled Wendy into it. She'd heard rumors about a crystal cavern in the woods that could appeal both to Ford's love of the paranormal and Stan's desire for precious jewels. The four of them set out in the morning and found it after a long and tiring search. Dipper suggested that rather than dig out any of the riches inside they should put together a treasure map, filled with clues and wrong turns and puzzles, and present that to their grunkles instead.

They'd have won that night handily if Stan and Ford hadn't convinced McGucket to join their team. Even if those mech suits he'd built for them ended up crashed into the side of a cliff, the few hours they'd spent flying around in them provided enough thrills to last a lifetime.

It seemed that the elder and younger sides of the family were evenly matched. And so, the morning of the last night of Hanukkah found the attic of the Mystery Shack covered in blueprints, scribbled notes, crumpled paper, and a whiteboard filled with possible gift ideas.

“All right people, this is it.” Dipper stood below the window—a circular one that replaced the triangle-shaped opening that had been there before. “Our last chance. We've got to really wow them if we want to come out of this victorious! Now who's got suggestions?”

“I'm tapped out, Dipper.” Wendy said, yawning. “What do old people even like anyway? Jazz records?”

“Too small.” Dipper said.

“Oh! Oh!” Soos waved his hand, “a airplane that runs on sick beats instead of fuel?”

“Probably impossible.” Dipper replied.

“Dipper...isn't this getting a little out of hand?” Mabel asked. “Don't get me wrong, it's been fun and all. But I feel like we're forgetting the true meaning of Hanukkah!”

“...Being glad that we avoided genocide?”

“No! Having fun with your family!” Mabel insisted. “We've been so busy planning and getting gifts for Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford that we've barely even seen them all week! The whole point of everyone coming up to Gravity Falls was so we could all spend time together.”

Dipper frowned, looking around the attic at the evidence of their present-planning session. Mabel had a point...they'd spent all morning up here with the door locked so neither of their grunkles could peek.

He walked over to the bulletin board where he'd pinned up a photograph of the two of them, laughing and posing in front of the Stan-O-War. It was circled in red pen with the words “our targets!” written on it. Dipper pulled the photo off the board and looked at it. He'd had so many plans to talk to Ford about the weird things he'd been finding in Piedmont, and Stan had promised to show him how to hotwire a car that winter, but since the gift-giving contest those things had been pushed aside.

“Geez...” he muttered. “Mabel, maybe you--”

Dipper was cut off when a snowball caught him right in the back of the head, knocking him forward onto the attic floor.

“Ha!” Stan's voice came from the window. “Sneak attack, Dipper! Never let your guard down!”

Dipper shivered, brushing the snow off himself as he stood. His irritation at being interrupted by an icy projectile was somewhat tempered by the confusion of seeing Stan's face floating just outside a second-story window.

“Grunkle Stan?” he asked. “What...how are you....?”

Dipper came closer to the window and leaned out just enough to see that Stan was being supported by Ford, who was wearing a pair of what Dipper could only assume were rocket boots, seeing as they were boots with rockets coming out of the bottom of them. Before he could comment on what he saw, Stan grabbed another handful of snow from the roof and rolled it into a snowball, tossing it at his face. This time Dipper was quick enough to duck, and the snowball hit the attic floor behind him.

“C'mon out! There's a new foot and a half of powder out here and someone's got to clear it off the parking lot one snowball at a time!” Stan said.

“This is a trick.” Dipper narrowed his eyes, pointing accusingly at his grunkles. “You're just trying to distract us so that we won't outdo your present tonight!”

“Probably.” Stan admitted. “What're you gonna do about it?”

Dipper thought for a minute. He turned to Mabel, who grinned at him. He smiled back.

“I'll tell you what I'm gonna do.” He said, hurriedly grabbing a fistful of the fallen snowball and packing it in his bare hands. “I'm gonna kick your butts in a snowball fight!”

“Ha! That's the--” Stan was cut off as Dipper's snowball caught him square in the face.

“Try it!” Ford grinned, peeking from around Stan's shoulder. “We'll take you all on!”

“Oh, you're gonna regret that, old man!” Wendy called, pointing out the window at Ford.

“We'll see!” Stan said, wiping his face clean. “You'll have t—DOWN, DOWN!” he shouted at Ford, who swerved just in time to avoid Mabel's grappling hook as it shot out of the attic window and attached to the tree on top of them. Mabel gave it a powerful yank and the branch shook, pummeling them both with enough snow to drive them to the ground.

“Nice one!” Dipper shouted to Mabel, pulling on his coat and hurrying for the stairs. “Come on!”

* * *

Several hours and untold hundreds of snowballs later, the battle began to wind down. Stan and Ford had gotten their revenge for Mabel's grappling hook attack as soon as the youngsters exited the Shack, pummeling them with as many snowballs as they could carry. From there it devolved into pure chaos. Snow barricades were built and destroyed. Impromptu catapults were created from trees. At one point, the grunkles managed to claim some high ground that they dubbed Snow Fort Stan, but a boulder-sized snowball from Soos ended their reign. By the time the sky began to darken, everyone was soaked through with slush, shivering and very, very tired.

“Truce?” Stan shouted from across the parking lot.

“Truce.” Dipper agreed, tossing the snowball he'd been making over his shoulder. “I haven't felt my toes for an hour now.”

“Let's get you kids inside.” Ford suggested, guiding Dipper, Mabel, Soos and Wendy towards the front door. “We don't want you getting frostbite.”

After everyone had had the chance to change into dry clothes and to bring some extra blankets into the den, it was dark enough to light the candles and say the blessing for the final night of Hanukkah. Dipper turned to Ford and Stan expectantly.

“Well, whatever your plan was with that snowball fight, it obviously worked.” He said. “I'm at least excited to see what came of it.”

“Er, yeah...about that.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I was supposed to distract you with a snowball fight while Ford snuck off and found these magic suits of armor or something? But...once things got going....”

“We both kind of forgot about it.” Ford finished. “And since the snow globes we'd originally brought for the eighth night were carried off by the Threeagle, well...we don't really have anything to give you tonight at all.”

“That's okay, Grunkle Ford.” Dipper smiled. “Because tonight, you're both giving us the greatest gift there is....”

“If you say 'family,' I'm disowning you.” Stan warned.

“Nope. The greatest gift you could possibly give us—winning!” Dipper pointed at them both. “You're empty-handed! That means Mabel and I are the top gift-givers in this family!”

“You little stinker!” Stan roughed up Dipper's hair affectionately, while Ford sat back and laughed.

“I suppose you're right...does that mean you have something for us, then?” Ford asked.

“You bet we do!” Mabel smiled, pulling a wrapped package from under the couch.

“This one was Mabel's idea, obviously.” Dipper said pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “But I helped a lot putting it together, so...it's from both of us.”

The grunkles sat together on the couch as Mabel pressed the gift between them. They tore the paper off and revealed the cover of a large, paper snowflake-covered scrapbook. The front said 'Winter Break” followed by two exclamation points and a heart.

“...Hoo boy.” Stan exhaled as Ford opened the scrapbook and started flipping through it. Soos and Wendy came to stand behind the couch and watch over their shoulders, while Waddles curled up at their feet.

The early section was focused on Dipper and Mabel at home---Mabel playing in the snow with Waddles, Dipper and Mabel building a monstrous snowman, and scenes from around their house as they packed and prepared to head up to Oregon. Further along, pictures of the Shack started to appear. Images of Soos welcoming the twins back to Gravity Falls, of Stan and Ford arriving...of the family playing games, or sitting and talking together, along with several clandestine photos of the grunkles falling asleep draped over each other. The kids had even been taking pictures of the gift war. All the sneaking around, the competition and the chaos, it was all there framed with doodles and stickers and glitter glue.

As Stan and Ford looked through the pictures, they were blinded by the flash of a camera. Mabel pulled a glue stick from her sweater and swiped it on the back of the newly-taken Polaroid. Dipper opened the scrapbook to the last page, where “Eighth Night!!” was written in excited macaroni-based letters. With a flourish, the picture was pressed down into the middle of the page.

“Do you like it?” Mabel asked, climbing on the couch and snuggling next to Stan.

“Think we earned our win?” Dipper added, climbing up next to Ford.

“I'd call this a landslide victory.” Ford agreed. “Wouldn't you, Stanley?”

Stan answered by hooking one arm around Mabel and pulling her close, while reaching the other behind Ford's back and dragging both him and Dipper into a hug. He squeezed them with all his strength while the candles burned brightly in the window.

 


End file.
